Strange American:

I take the familiar route. The one which is marked green on the map. The Piccadilly line.

I stop to remove a five pence coin from my jacket pocket, and throw it into a guitar case lying open, empty, save a few coins. I then shoot a glance at the guitarist, a young fellow, undoubtedly a teenage runaway. His hands run over the guitar strings so effortlessly, and yet, the music produced, makes me crave for more.

I look at my watch. 11:32 am, it reads. I continue walking, making my way through millions of people. People I don't know, and have never seen before… strangers.

I reach just in time. I board the train, and see it half empty. It is a Tuesday morning, after all.

I take a seat near the doors, and take out my iPod.

I notice a young woman seated opposite me. Her straight blonde hair sports darker blonde highlights. "She is an attractive woman.", I decide. I force my eyes to look somewhere else.

I turn to my iPod, and start listening to Burning For You.

I look at her again. This time I can see her face. Heart-shaped and slightly tanned, I'm guessing she's an American. Her blue eyes are laden with energy, sparkling like diamonds, when light passes through. Quite tall, around 5 7" I decide. Nice figure… curvy. She wears a light blue sweater, over black jeans,that are tucked into black boots. A thin strapped,blue purse is what she carries.

She looks at me, and I turn away.

"Talk to her", I say to myself, "Ask her for her name."

I look up again, and open my mouth, ready to speak.

But then I stop. I see tears falling, hands shaking. She's a mess.

Now we're the only two left in our compartment.

I get up and sit next to her. Turning my head sideways, I ask her what's wrong.

She doesn't reply. She merely shakes her head and wipes her face.

I ask her if she's alright.

Silence.

I sigh and get up. Walking towards my original seat, I sit down.

"Hello. Sorry for the waterworks. I'm not usually like this.", she says, catching me by surprise, for I was under the impression that she was mute.

I like her voice. It's soft and gentle, yet commanding and firm.

Introductions are made.

"Pleased to meet you", she says. "Pleasures all mine", I reply.

I ask her if she's alright.

She looks pained. Then she sighs.

She tells me that two years ago her boyfriend died, and today was their anniversary.

She stops.

I sympathize, and offer my apologies.

Unsure of what to say next, the two of us just sit there, quiet and observant.

I notice a ring.

I sigh. I now know that there's no way I can befriend her, she's engaged.

The train comes to a halt. South Ealing, reads the board outside. This is where I get off. I bid her adieu, and hug her.

I give her one last glance, and then step out.

The train begins to move again, and she waves to me. I wave back and sigh.

Turning around, I bump into someone.

I apologies, and walk towards the exit.

Lillian Truscott. Yes, definitely American…

a very random fic yes i know. but i was bored.

please leave your thoughts, even if you didnt like it.

Cheers

me